


Amazing

by Vampiyaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Behind the Scenes, F/M, Fluff, Post - Chamber of Secrets, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiyaa/pseuds/Vampiyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Harry leaves with Luna to look at the diadem, Ron gets the idea to head down to the Chamber of Secrets and use the Basilisk fangs to destroy the Horcruxes. He proves once and for all to Hermione that he is, in fact, amazing. One shot, fluff, a behind-the-scenes in the seventh book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amazing

Amazing 

“If you’d like to see what the diadem’s supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry? Ravenclaw’s wearing it in her statue.”

Ron and Hermione both watched as their friend squeezed his eyes shut in what they knew now to be pain emanating from the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, barely a moment after Cho Chang had finished speaking. He kept silent for a couple of seconds before opening his eyes and regarding them with a look they’d been getting used to— urgency.

“He’s on the move,” Harry said quietly, before glancing between them and his ex-girlfriend. “Listen, I know it’s not much of a lead, but I’m going to go and look at this statue, at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know — the other one — safe.”

Overhearing this, Cho stood up, but the voice belonging to Ron’s only sister echoed as she tossed back her fiery red hair and said fiercely, “No, Luna will take Harry, won’t you, Luna?”

“Oooh, yes, I’d like to,” Luna chimed in with delight.

Cho sat down looking disappointed, prompting a flash of triumph from Ginny, a smirk from Ron and Hermione and a brief awkward but pleased look from Harry, who was now avoiding looking at anybody save for Neville. “How do we get out?”

“Over here,” Neville instructed, leading Harry and Luna away to a corner of the room and pointing at a small cupboard. The two peered out of it, and Neville added at Harry’s look of inquisition, “It comes out somewhere different every day, so they’ve never been able to find it. Only trouble is, we never know exactly where we’re going to end up when we go out. Be careful, Harry, they’re always patrolling the corridors at night.”

“No problem,’ Harry said. “See you in a bit.”

Ron and Hermione continued to watch as their friends clambered into the cupboard in a flash of long blonde hair, Neville shutting the door behind them. The two grimaced at each other and made their way towards one of the hammocks nearest to Seamus and Dean, sinking down with a similar feeling in their stomachs.

“There are hundreds of things that could go wrong,” Hermione said, setting down Hufflepuff’s cup between her legs so she could wring her hands.

Ron couldn’t help but smile a bit at her ministrations, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. “It’ll be fine. It’s Harry we’re talking about, remember? Always manages to weasel himself out of trouble, that one.”

“I know, Ron, but honestly, I don’t think it’s worth the risk! So we’ll know what Ravenclaw’s diadem looks like— we don’t even know if it’s even a Horcrux! And you heard what Neville said, they’re always patrolling the corridors. What would they do to Harry and Luna if they got caught? And,” she added, sounding more hysterical by the minute, “we’ve got this bloody thing to worry about!” Hermione scowled down at the cup caught between her ankles. “Even if we find the diadem, we have no way of destroying it!”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed darkly. “‘Specially since Griphook made off with Gryffindor’s sword, the scrawny Goblin git.”

“Everyone,” Hermione suddenly said, her worry-stricken voice emanating through the room as she stood up at fullest height. “I know this is probably an odd question, but does anybody know of a powerful magical substance? One that can destroy things beyond magical repair?”

There was a low chatter across the room reminiscent to white noise on a wireless. One sandy-haired Ravenclaw piped up, “What about Fiendfyre?”

“Definitely not,” Hermione said sharply, ignoring Ron’s look of confusion. “Anything else?”

The chatter increased in volume before dying down again, and all eyes went to Hermione as the lot of them shook their heads and shrugged. Hermione sank back onto the hammock, burying her face in her hands.

“Hey now,” Ron said softly, scooting closer to her so that their thighs were touching and slinging an arm over her shoulder, something that was beginning to become a habit. “We’ll figure this out. What’s so bad about that friendly fire?”

She cracked a smile at his mispronunciation. “Fiendfyre. We’re not using it, it’s far too dangerous.” Her whiskey coloured eyes wandered to the cup. “Oh, I wish we had the sword! We should never have bargained with Griphook!”

Ron chuckled dryly and snorted, “Yeah, when he asked for the sword as payment we should have stuck it up his—” His eyes went wide and his mouth opened in shock, even as Seamus and Dean sniggered over his unfinished sentence.

“What is it, Ron?” Hermione said, watching him curiously.

“Basilisk venom.”

“Yeah, that’s what the sword was impregnated with.”

“Yeah, but don’t you see?” Ron glanced at Seamus and Dean before turning his back on them and lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. “The Chamber of Secrets. The Basilisk.”

Hermione frowned, mulling what he’d said over in her head while at the same time trying very hard not to notice how close his face was to hers. “But you killed the Basilisk years ago. What would—?” Her eyes went wide in realisation. “Oh!”

“Unless the cleaning lady paid a visit down there, which I very much doubt, I reckon there’s still the skeleton of a great dirty snake in the Chamber,” Ron said, an excited gleam in his eyes. “All we’ve got to do is head down there, yank off a couple of fangs and we’ll be right as rain.”

“ _Brilliant, Ron_!” Hermione hissed, beaming at him and resisting the urge to throw her arms around his neck. Her joy was briefly stinted for a moment. “Hang on, you told me Harry opened it using Parseltongue. Harry just left with Luna!”

“I can do it,” Ron said almost defensively. “I remember what he said to open Slytherin’s locket; I can do it.”

Hermione wasn’t sure, but the look of utter excitement on his face made her squash her uncertainty and beam at him again. “All right, let’s go!”

Ron laughed in delight, uncurling his arm around her a little too slowly to be appropriate and jumping up off the hammock. “OI! You lot! Anybody got a broom I can borrow?”

Among the chatter Seamus turned to him and regarded him through puffed and purple eyes. “You can use mine if you want mate. Third one to the right in that row over there.”

He pointed, and as Hermione snatched up the cup again Ron bounced over to the row of broomsticks and grabbed Seamus’s Cleansweep Seven. As the two of them rushed towards the cupboard Ginny shouted out, “Hold on, where are you two going?”

“The bathroom!” Ron yelled back dismissively, yanking the cupboard door open and manoeuvring the broom through it.

“You know we have loos here, right?” Neville said curiously.

“We need a specific one,” Hermione rushed out, grabbing Ron’s hand as the two of them hurtled down a pair of dusty, torch lit stairs.

There didn’t seem to be any Carrows or teachers alike roaming the corridors in their area, but just in case Ron and Hermione ran as quietly as they could, their footsteps sounding like tiny explosions. The portraits watched them, some whispering incorrigible words of encouragement, greetings and warnings.

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom is on the first floor,” Hermione breathed over their footsteps. “We’ll use one of Harry’s shortcuts to cut down the time it takes— we don’t want to get caught.”

“Incoming teacher!” hissed a portrait of a gypsy, who was sitting at a velvet covered table on which was perched a cloudy crystal ball.

Hermione and Ron ducked into the shadows, hiding behind a worn out old tapestry and a suit of armour as bumbling footsteps and the swish of a cloak sounded through the dimly lit corridor. Through the frayed threads they watched their old Potions master Slughorn stroll by, absently humming a tune underneath his breath. Once his footsteps faded, Hermione and Ron shoved the tapestry aside (which gave a squawk of protest) and proceeded down a carpet-covered staircase, ducking behind another tapestry and then down several flights of ever-changing staircases to the ground floor. After checking around the corner to ensure no teachers were flocked around the bathroom, they ducked inside. There was no visible sign of Moaning Myrtle, save for the low-pitched mournful gurgling that was coming from the furthest U-bend, but Hermione and Ron headed straight for the sink.

“It’s this one,” Ron said, still whispering and pointing to a tap on which there was a tiny serpent.

“Okay,” Hermione replied, stepping back as though to give him some space. “Give it a go.”

Ron leaned down, giving himself a moment to steel himself, before letting loose a strangled hissing noise reminiscent in pitch to the one Harry had when opening the locket, the one Ron had had plenty of nightmares about involving his best friend and the woman he loved eloping together. He waited for a moment, but the sink didn’t move. He scowled at it and tried again, to no avail.

“Try again,” Hermione whispered, gripping his arm encouragingly. “You can do it.”

Ron glanced at her, smiling affectionately when he saw her eyes were wide and full of belief. He wondered for a brief moment whether or not to tell her just how much she meant to him, before deciding this wasn’t the time. Turning back to the tap, he opened his mouth and determinedly hissed out pitch for pitch the Parseltongue word he guessed was ‘open’, shouting the word in English in his head simultaneously. Ron and Hermione shouted in triumph as the sinks began to open, coming apart before sinking into the ground and revealing an enormous pipe opening. They both initially took a step back at the putrid smell of plumbing wafting from the pipe, but upon Ron seeking out her hand and grasping it tightly, they both jumped feet first into the pipe.

Hermione couldn’t help but let out a cry of fear as they barrelled down the pipe at an astonishing speed, only to land straight on their arses as the pipe abruptly ended. She still clutched Ron’s hand despite it making it more difficult to stand, and she let out another shriek when she looked down at what she was standing on.

“Rat skeletons!” she said shrilly, her voice at least an octave higher than normal.

“Yep,” Ron said, unperturbed as he plopped the broom down and perched it against the wall. “Blimey, being down here brings back memories.”

“ _Memories_?” she squeaked.

“Yep,” he said again. “Like, Lockhart trying to erase our memories, me waiting for Harry for ages with only that bloody idiot for company, him asking me ten times if I lived down here...” He trailed off, eyes landing on the mushy pile of snakeskin. “I remember that too. Nearly gave me a bleedin’ heart attack.”

“Is that a snakeskin?” Hermione gasped.

Ron nodded, turning his attention to the collapsed pile of rock. “That was ‘cos of us too. Spent ages shifting the stuff.”

“It looks like more of it gave way,” Hermione noted, allowing Ron to help her climb the mountain pile.

They both clambered over it, having to slide between the pile and the ceiling on their stomachs to get through it, still not releasing each other’s hands. Hermione glanced down at their entwined hands as Ron led her down the damp corridor, wondering if he was ever going to let go. Not that she wanted him to or anything. She debated stopping him and telling him just how much she was in love with him, but decided that, as they were miles underground, hunting for a Basilisk skeleton and standing on a floor of rat bones, this was not the time nor the place.

The serpentine gateway was already open, left ajar from the last time Ron and Harry had visited. They climbed through the gate, both gasping simultaneously as they entered an enormous, seemingly endless chamber that was dimly glowing green. Enormous pillars entwined with stone snakes lifted a seemingly non-existent ceiling. At the far end of the chamber was an enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin, his bearded mouth open in a giant ‘o’, and at his feet was a colossal, coiled, spindly snake skeleton.

“Ooh, this is creepy,” Hermione hissed, unconsciously leaning closer to Ron as they took in the scene.

“Yeah. Blimey, and Harry was in here when we were twelve, when that thing was alive, with my unconscious sister and a teenage You-Know-Who,” Ron exclaimed, tugging on her hand and starting into a jog towards the great skeleton.

They both fell back a step at the collection of rats scurrying over the base of the skeleton, despite it having been picked clean. With a disgusted groan Hermione whipped out her wand and sent the rats flying off with a quick Banishing Charm. This allowed Ron to quickly approach it (still not letting go of her hand) and yank off fangs from its gaping mouth with his free hand and occasionally his boot, coupled occasionally with Hermione’s muttering of, “ _Diffindo_ ,” if the fangs proved to be too firmly attached.

“That seems to be enough,” Hermione said, once they had a respectable collection.

Ron yanked one extra one off for good measure, before glancing between the fang in his hand, the cup and then Hermione. “You do it,” he said, holding the fang out to her.

She recoiled from it as best she could still holding Ron’s hand. “What?”

“You stab the cup,” Ron said, still holding out the fang. “Harry stabbed the diary and I stabbed the locket. Seems fair that you should get a turn, yeah?”

Hermione shakily accepted the yellowed fang, the two of them kneeling down on the wet floor next to Hufflepuff’s cup, which seemed to be trembling as if it knew its fate. Ron gripped one of the handles tightly to hold it steady as Hermione raised the fang, steeling herself with a deep breath before plunging it straight over the shiny surface. The cup seemed to scream, the sound ten times louder as it reverberated through the enormous chamber. Something that looked suspiciously like blood was pouring from the slowly melting metal, staining the knees of Hermione’s jeans. Hermione let go of the fang, which clattered to the ground along with the others, gripping Ron’s hand tightly and leaning her head on his shoulder. He reciprocated in kind (hold on, did he just kiss the top of her head?) as they watched the cup wail and bleed and smoke until finally it went silent. As horrible as the sounds were, she half-wished they’d continue so she could stay like this with Ron.

They were finally forced to release each other’s hands once they had to pick up the pile of fangs, being too big for one person to carry alone; Hermione had less, (Ron insisted) even though Ron had slipped the remains of the cup inside his jacket pocket. Both were silent as they made their way back down the corridor and over the pile of rocks, but the silence was comfortable rather than awkward. They both, unbeknownst to the other, were once again debating voicing their feelings, Ron’s coupled with the question of whether or not to push her up against the wall and snog her, a scenario that was starting to become common. Neither of them did either as Ron set down his pile of fangs and grabbed the broom, swinging his leg over it and manoeuvring himself so he could pick up the bones again but still sit on the now hovering broomstick. He glanced back at her Hermione, who was standing uncertainly in the background, and nodded his head towards the empty space on the broom behind him.

“Come on, then,” Ron said, trying to sound casual even as the tops of his ears went red.

Hermione flushed too, hoping it didn’t show, and obediently sat down on the broom behind him, forced to wrap her arms around his waist and mould herself to his back. She bit back a giggle as the gesture made the back of Ron’s neck pinken as well, and with an embarrassed cough Ron kicked off the ground and headed straight up the pipe. There was a rushing sound like a waterfall as they bolted up the pipe, and the air was bitter against her face and Hermione clutched herself tighter to Ron in fear, praying they didn’t hit anything. She buried her face in Ron’s shirt to protect her face from the cold, smelling his scent mixed with sweat and night air. They emerged in the bathroom, Hermione collapsing off of the broom in a heap of bushy hair and dropped Basilisk fangs. Ron swung himself off with ease, trying not to chuckle as she gathered herself up and glared at him. Her glare disappeared at the sounds of shouting and a loud bang echoed from the corridor outside.

“Looks like the battle’s started,” Ron exclaimed, starting out the door and tucking the broom under his arm.

“Um, Ron?” she said quietly.

He paused, turning. “Yeah?”

“We were just in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ron frowned at her quizzically. “Yeah...?”

“Which you opened using Parseltongue,” she continued.

He flushed at the wide-eyed look she was giving him, like he’d just turned into Merlin or a textbook right in front of her eyes. “Erm, yeah. I did.”

Hermione drew breath and then beamed at him, catching him totally by surprise. “You’re _amazing_!”

He grinned and looked at the ground, suddenly very interested in his shoes. “Well, I wouldn’t say that...”

Another series of shouts and bangs broke them out of their moment, and they took off down the corridor, grinning stupidly. Their grins faded at the sight of teachers tossing curses through open windows and vases exploding.

“ _Stupefy_!” Hermione shouted, as they rounded the corner only to run into a Death Eater. Said Death Eater caught the stunner directly in the chest, the charm so powerful he lifted off his feet and crashed into the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor.

“ _That_ was amazing,” Ron grinned, and Hermione flushed with flattery.

Wishing he could grab her hand again but unable to due to the armful of Basilisk fangs, they ran down the halls and up stairs in search of Harry, the two of them passing Death Eaters and teachers duelling, ducking under jets of light and sidestepping a Death Eater who’d been hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse and was flailing his arms, howling at the pain in his eyes. As if on cue the very person they’d been searching for rounded the corner, pausing for a moment at the sight of them.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” Harry shouted, looking livid as he hurried towards them.

“Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron, resisting the urge to grin.

“Chamber— _what_?” Harry said, coming to a halt in front of them.

“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” Hermione burst out rather breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The Basilisk!”

“What the—?”

“Something to get rid of the Horcruxes,” Ron said simply.

Harry looked from the fangs in Ron’s arms, back to Ron and again to the fangs. “But how did you get in there? You need to speak Parseltongue!”

“He did!” Hermione whispered. “Show him, Ron!”

Ron imitated the garbled hissing he’d used before looking at Harry almost apologetically. “It’s what you did to open the locket. I had to have a few goes to get it right, but we got there in the end,” he said, shrugging.

“He was _amazing_ ,” Hermione beamed. “Amazing!”

“So...” Harry forced out, frowning. “So...”

“So we’re another Horcrux down,” Ron filled in for him, pulling the remnants of Hufflepuff’s cup from under his jacket. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”

Harry’s face split into an enormous grin, and he shouted, “Genius!”

Despite looking just as excited, Ron said, “It was nothing. So what’s new with you?” at the same moment there was an overhead explosion, and they all looked up as dust rained from the ceiling and a scream sounded from behind them.

“I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it is,” Harry said, rushing his words out. “He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book, where everyone’s been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one to find it. Come on.”

The walls of the castle shook as Harry led the two of them through a concealed entrance and back down a pair of stairs to the Room of Requirement. The room was empty save for Ginny, Tonks and an old witch wearing a stuffed vulture on her head, whom they recognised as Neville’s grandmother.

She looked up and regarded Harry. “Ah, Potter. You can tell us what’s going on.”

“Is everyone OK?” Ginny and Tonks said simultaneously.

“‘S far as we know. Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?”

“I was the last to come through,” said Neville’s grandmother. “I sealed it, I think it unwise to leave it open now Aberforth has left the pub. Have you seen my grandson?”

“He’s fighting,” said Harry.

The old woman drew herself up. “Naturally. Excuse me, I must go assist him.”

She hurried with abnormal speed up the stone steps, the head of the stuffed vulture visible even as she left down the corridor. Harry turned immediately to Tonks, looking her over. “I thought you were supposed to be with Teddy at your mother’s?”

“I couldn’t stand not knowing—” Tonks looked terrified. “She’ll look after him— have you seen Remus?”

“He was planning to lead a group of fighters into the ground—”

Without letting Harry finish his sentence Tonks took off after Mrs. Longbottom.

“Ginny,” said Harry, turning to her. “I’m sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in.” Ginny, looking delighted, bolted towards where Tonks disappeared, prompting Harry to shout after her, “And then you can come back in! _You’ve got to come back in_!”

“Hang on a moment,” Ron said as he realised something. “We’ve forgotten someone!”

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?” Ron exclaimed, marvelling at how it was he who’d thought of them and not her, the president of S.P.E.W.

“You mean we ought to get them fighting?” Harry asked.

“No,” Ron said earnestly, frowning. “I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want anymore Dobbys, do we? We can’t order them to die for us—”

He started as a clattering sound echoed around them and suddenly he had an armful of Hermione, who’d flung her arms around his neck and was kissing him— _kissing him_. He wasted no time hesitating over this momentous event but tossed aside whatever the hell was in his arms and clamped them around her, kissing her back fiercely, trying to show her all the emotion he’d been hiding from her all these years bleed into the kiss, holding her back so firmly he lifted her off the ground for a moment. Vaguely they were aware of Harry saying something, but all thought and energy went into mashing their mouths together, and really, who was Harry again? The only thing that existed was the feelings blooming in their chests that were almost painful, the delightful realisation that Hermione’s bottom lip fitted perfectly between Ron’s and—

“OI! There’s a war going on here!”

Not letting go of her, Ron pulled away and tried not to glare and/or punch his best friend. “I know, mate, so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

“Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?” Harry shouted. “D’you think you could just— just hold it in until we’ve got the diadem?”

Ron refrained from telling Harry just where he could stick the diadem, instead saying awkwardly, “Yeah — right — sorry...” and releasing her, both of them flushing as they gathered up the dropped Basilisk fangs.

It wasn’t until after the item of decades of suffering, death and pain was lying crumpled in a heap at Harry’s feet, and Ron and Hermione had flung themselves at their friend and shouted incoherently just how effing brilliant he was, that they were forced aside by the crowd, all of whom wanted to touch the person who’d killed Lord Voldemort, and Ron shoved aside the pain of losing his brother and grabbed the woman he loved by her shoulders. With a shout of, “ _Fuck, woman, I love you_!” he dipped her back and kissed her roughly, mouth mashing against hers none too gracefully. It was all tongue and teeth and little else, but one thing was for certain: it was the moment they’d never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> All my fics can be found on fanfiction.net. This was just a fluffy little one shot about Ron and Hermione's POV when they went down into the Chamber of Secrets that I wanted to get off my chest. Please kudos :3


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